


A Most Devoted Daughter

by Aondeug



Category: Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha | Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-07 22:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aondeug/pseuds/Aondeug
Summary: As a child Fate had one wish: to make her mother smile. That wish never came true and her devotion was met with cruelty. That sort of thing leaves a mark on a person, even one as successful as Fate T. Harlaown. A collection of poems about Fate's abuse at the hands of her mother and the aftermath of it.





	1. Not a southpaw blues

There's a pen in your left hand  
just as you remember  
though it doesn't feel the same.  
You can see it though  
right there in your memories,  
it's crystal clear.  
Pens, crayons, pencils,  
they’re all in your left hand  
as you draw your pictures  
for your mother  
who smiles at them  
when she comes home from work  
and tells you how nice they are,  
how talented you are.  
Right now though  
even if it's in your left hand  
while she watches you  
with growing concern  
you just can't do it.  
You try and fail  
to draw a line  
just like you remember  
while your hand aches and pains,  
cramping in protest.  
You can't find the little muscles  
that you remember so well  
which let you draw your lines  
to show Mother.  
You know they're there,  
you can even feel them  
in those memories,  
but you can't find them here.  
You can't find them  
and you can't draw a line  
and your mother's leaving  
with a heavy sigh  
because you failed again.  
You couldn't draw a straight line  
to make her smile  
just as you remember  
and you don't understand why.  
There's a pen in your left hand!


	2. It's your fault

She feels it  
sharp, stark  
burning  
that cuts quick,  
digging deep  
drawing out cries.  
One, two  
how long is it?  
An hour?  
More?  
It blurs,  
blended up,  
one moment  
a lifetime,  
one moment  
too short.  
Her fault  
it's her fault  
frankly.  
Just hers  
and just her  
on the floor.  
Cold, burning  
bruising, bleeding.  
Just her,  
just shame.  
Silversharp  
pain  
she feels it.


	3. A Lack of Love

Every time she goes up to her  
there's a pit of worry in her stomach  
and more than a little shame.  
She's disappointed her mother, surely,  
as that's all she ever seems to do.  
She tries though,  
tries to get just one smile.  
She never succeeds of course,  
because she doesn't love Mother  
not nearly enough and like she should.  
So the shame is great  
and it burns and burns,  
because guilt brands you deeper than fear.  
If only she loved Mother more,  
if only she respected Mother more,  
but of course she doesn't  
and so even as she recoils  
from the whipping to come  
she can't help but feel   
that it's for her own good  
every time she goes up to her.


	4. Hanging

A cold room is home  
and her shoulders pop and tear.  
Home's where the chains are.


	5. (not an) Infection

Arf, dear Arf. She's here.  
Alcohol is here also  
which burns while it cleans cuts.


	6. She'll always be 'Mother'

Days pass,  
then months  
and years even  
and as time slips by  
the feeling never dies,  
not completely.  
That yearning's still there  
for something she never got  
and it always prompts an  
'I love you, Mother.'  
No one understands  
except Mom, maybe,  
and that's just fine.


	7. Just one hug

Your eyes are dead  
and your spirits are crushed  
so you crumple to the floor  
while that girl shouts,  
it might be your name,  
you don't care  
because all you can think  
is how much you want a hug  
but not from that girl.


	8. Sometimes

Sometimes  
as you sit there  
you think of her,  
your mother.  
  
She smiled,  
though never at you.  
She laughed,  
though always at you.  
Your name  
was never on her mind.  
Her name,  
now that was on her mind.  
You were pit  
against a girl you never knew.  
  
There's scars too,  
more than you can count  
all clustered up  
on your back and more  
for having failed  
to live up to the ghost  
of the lost.  
  
You've little quirks  
like a shyness  
that never left,  
a desire to please  
that never left,  
and a terror  
that they all might leave.  
  
But sometimes  
as you sit there  
and you think of her,  
your mother,  
you can't but know  
that you'll always, always  
always love her.


	9. Stigma

Some worry.  
They murmur and whisper  
of the family curse,  
the madness,  
though you've worked  
all your life  
to be anything but  
the madness.  
  
Isn't that a madness?


End file.
